


baby the stars shine bright

by ifreet



Category: Psych, The Walking Dead
Genre: Comment Fic, M/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-01
Updated: 2011-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifreet/pseuds/ifreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because what says Valentine's Day like Lassiter and O'Hara outside the Atlanta of the Walking Dead universe?</p>
            </blockquote>





	baby the stars shine bright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lipstickcat](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lipstickcat).



Lassiter caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Too close to avoid, if it was a walker. He wheeled and drew -- O'Hara mirroring him automatically. "SBPD," they called out, the warning automatic even now.

The men -- three of them -- held their positions, weapons rising. Not walkers then. His aim didn't waiver. There were other hazards in the world -- a unifying enemy didn't much change people.

"Deputy Sheriff Grimes," came the reply, in the slower, unclipped speech of a local. "Everybody be calm."

"Thank God, someone who knows what they're doing." He let his gun drop, trusting O'Hara to cover him, but didn't holster it. He stepped into unobstructed view. "I'm tired of being fired upon by panicked civilians."

"Your friend coming out, too?"

"Maybe," he replied. "Doesn't hurt to be cautious these days."

The deputy nodded and tucked his piece away, evening the odds. "True. But I've found it's impossible to get anywhere without a little trust." He met Lassiter's eyes, raised an eyebrow. Lassiter studied him for a long moment, then the other two. A man just a bit younger than the sheriff and a wide eyed kid. The kid was probably the most dangerous for being jumpy. The kid was also likely to fail to view O'Hara as any kind of threat. Lassiter nodded.

"O'Hara."

Grimes' man loosed a wolf whistle and lowered his -- was that a crossbow? -- weapon. "Ain't you something."

"Don't make me shoot you," O'Hara replied, though she lowered her arms to point the gun at the ground.

"SBPD?" the deputy asked. Lassiter wondered if he'd been as good at de-escalation back before.

"Santa Barbara."

The kid blinked. "You were caught a long way from home."

"We were here for a conference when it started -- after that it's a long story."

"Is this story worth getting killed for? Because I'd like to get out of here before dark," the guy with the yes-that's-a-crossbow sounded more put upon than anything.

"That's Daryl." The sheriff looked like he was going to add something, then just shook his head, visibly changing tracks. "He's right. We need to gear up and head back to the others."

The kid vanished into the store. Daryl followed, after a final lingering glance at O'Hara. Grimes held out his hand, and Lassiter holstered his weapon to shake it. It felt strange, a piece of a civilization out of place in the ruins.

"So, y'all joining us for dinner?"

***

Lassiter crouched near the small fire -- small and well-hidden, but more than he and O'Hara had ever dared. Numbers brought their own dangers, from everything the sheriff's group had said, but some measure of security as well. O'Hara always found her feet with people -- even now, she looked almost happy. There weren't that many people Lassiter had gotten along with. O'Hara was one of them, first as a protegee then partner. But the top of that short list was a full continent away, possibly unaware of just how important he'd become to Lassiter, who had after all spent a lot of time and energy trying to hide it from him. It seemed foolish now, and he hoped he'd been seen through.

The twist of his mouth might have struck an observer as bitter, so he turned his face to the sky. The stars were so bright away from towns and cities. Matter of time before the automated systems turning on the street lights stopped functioning, the lights burned out, and the stars would be this bright everywhere.

The group was easing its way north, avoiding towns and walkers, heading towards D.C. Towards answers, Grimes had insisted, but Lassiter doubted that. There were no answers, at least not any that would also lead to solutions. O'Hara had a brother in D.C. -- or she'd had one. He was military and so probably dead. But Lassiter had learned how powerful hope was.

O'Hara joined him there, staring at the stars. She chattered amiably, not immediately discouraged by his silence, telling him about the group, all the personalities and relationships. "If everything goes right, we should reach D.C. within the week. If the highways were clear, it'd be a day's drive, but..." She shrugged and glanced at him, then looked harder. Her hand fluttered up to her face -- a ridiculous girlish motion that belied how good a cop, how good a _survivor_ she'd become. "You're not coming with us."

He surprised himself by smiling. "No. I'm going back to Santa Barbara." The apocalypse had simplified priorities, exposed things -- feelings -- long hidden. "Someone needs to ask Shawn why he didn't see this coming."

Juliet made a small noise and pulled him into a crushing hug. After a moment, she sat back. "Tell him I'm sorry. My family's out here." She made it sound like getting there, finding Shawn was a foregone conclusion. She smacked his arm. "And you better treat him right. I mean it."

"I will," he promised. He lay down, and Juliet curled beside him for one last time, both watching the night sky. Two thousand miles. If Shawn was alive, he'd find him.


End file.
